Darcy's Hidden Desire
by VioletKingAuthor
Summary: When a naughty Mrs. Darcy finds her husband sleepwalking, she seizes the opportunity to fulfill both their desires. But what happens when he wakes? To keep to FFNet T.O.S., I am posting a redacted/less steamy version here, but you can read unredacted manuscript as I post it on my site. This is important from Ch. 3 onward.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone! So I got another plot bunny and wanted to try my hand at a steamy P&P variation/sequel. It all takes place after marriage. **This story is pretty steamy so I can't post some parts here **(and as we get into later chapters, it will be heavily redacted.) But don't worry, **I'm posting the whole thing for free to my website**. **Just grab a free membership to read the steamy bits. My website is violetkingauthor DOT com and then just go up to Read FREE Online **in the menu to find the chapters. If you don't have the free membership, click on the tab in the menu to go grab it. You can leave anytime.

**Alas, this is an unedited, straight from the brain first draft.** The published version will be proofed and edited. Also, the first two chapters are pretty tame, so I'm posting them as is. From there onward, we'll have redactions, lol. I couldn't edit it to make sense without just saying [Redacted] but as I said, the unredacted version is on my site. In fact, there are four chapters up there now.

Enough intro. Kind of nervous because this is new for me, but I hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 1**

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy woke as her husband pulled his arm from around her and sat up. She wished Fitzwilliam had only awakened to use the chamber pot and not to steal away from her bed. The bed she wished they shared.

Fitzwilliam pressed a kiss to her exposed shoulder, his lips lingering. They had made love half an hour before, slow and sweet. Elizabeth was glad for the closeness to her husband their marriage bed entailed, but she could not help wondering if he wanted more. Perhaps it was the French postcards Lydia had found in their father's study. The images entailed were not sweet, but they had fascinated Elizabeth. Not that she dared share such fascinations with her husband. As it was, his interest in their conjugal relations was stilted.

Elizabeth rolled over to face him. Sometimes, she could tempt him to return to her arms, and hold her in his embrace. Maybe, if she tired him enough, he might stay the night.

For a while longer at least. Fitzwilliam always slipped from the room after he thought her asleep.

"Lizzie," Fitzwilliam said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep."

"Stay," Elizabeth murmured. She reached for him. The coals of the fire, gave the room dim, red cast, allowing her to discern the outline of Fitzwilliam's lean-muscled shoulders and lightly furred chest. Elizabeth loved the feel of her husband against her. The way he held her close as they gave each other pleasure. "Please."

"I cannot," Fitzwilliam brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I love you, but I must go."

Fitzwilliam's voice held a cool note of finality. Elizabeth knew she would not persuade her husband tonight.

Fitzwilliam took the oil lamp from the nightstand there he had left it, where he left every night, and lighting, padded from the room. Elizabeth rolled over into the spot where he had held her and breathed his scent from the sheets.

More than anything, thought of repeating her parents' mistakes scared Elizabeth. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had never shared a bedroom. It was the accepted way of doing things, and certainly, Fitzwilliam Darcy did what was expected of him. Elizabeth had known this when she had become his wife. But she also hoped for to persuade him. If not share a bedroom, but at least to have them share a bed until they greeted the dawn together in each other's arms.

But even on the carriage ride to Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy had insisted upon his own rooms. The innkeepers, silenced by his generous payments, had bowed with stony gentility, but Elizabeth had noted the pity in the servants' eyes.

Elizabeth love Fitzwilliam Darcy. He claimed to love her in return. But was she fooling herself? Would their closeness fade as swiftly as Fitzwilliam's scent faded from their shared sheets?

Elizabeth pulled the cover to her neck. She had vowed to marry for love, and she would not let her marriage fail before it even begun.

**Thanks for Reading!**

This chapter and the next are super short, so I'm posting them both today. And I'll post the redacted Chapter 3 here ASAP if you're interested. The unredacted version is up on my site. Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Best,

V


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone! As I said in the last chapter, **this story is pretty steamy so after this chapter I can't post some parts here **(and as we get into later chapters, it will be heavily redacted.) But don't worry, **I'm posting the whole, unredacted draft for free to my website**. **Just grab a free membership to read the steamy bits. My website is violetkingauthor DOT com and then just go up to Read FREE Online **in the menu to find the chapters. If you don't have the free membership, click on the tab in the menu to go grab it. You can leave anytime.

**Alas, this is an unedited, straight from the brain first draft.** The published version will be proofed and edited. Also, the first two chapters are pretty tame, so I'm posting them as is. From there onward, we'll have redactions, lol. I couldn't edit it to make sense without just saying [Redacted] but as I said, the unredacted version is on my site.

**Chapter 2**

Fitzwilliam Darcy ached as he pulled himself, once again, from the warmth of his wife's embrace. He wished he had the strength to tell her why he could not risk falling asleep in her arms, but if Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy learned of his unconscious wanderings, she would think him mad.

Perhaps he was mad. Without the Darcy name and expected fortune, society would have declared him such. Perhaps forced into an asylum. Perhaps taken his own life.

Darcy held the candle in front of him as he plodded down the cold hallway to his even colder bed.

Darcy's valet, Alistair James, stepped into the hall, crossing his path as though it were an incidental meeting and not as though he had waited to ensure Darcy arrived without incident in his rooms before falling asleep.

"Mr. Darcy," James said.

"I am well." Darcy wasn't. Being well would have implied falling asleep with his nose pressed to the nape of his wife's neck, her inky hair tickling his nose as he held her soft, beautiful form.

"I do not mean to presume, sir, but…"

"Mr. James, you have every right to presume, and even if you did not, you would anyhow. Spit it out, if you will."

"Tell her."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Your misery is obvious. Mrs. Darcy is a clever woman. She suspects something."

"Has she said such?" Darcy had done all in his power to ensure his wife's happiness. "Who has she told?"

"She has said nothing. But a woman knows."

Darcy shivered. "It is perfectly proper for a man and wife to sleep separately. Far more common than the opposite."

"A wife wishes to feel a part of her husband's life. Especially a wife in love."

Darcy shut his eyes. His lids were heavy, and the weight of his future, the minutes becoming days and years as he held tight to his secret, made to question himself. He and Elizabeth had vowed to share each other's burdens. Could he burden her with this?

No.

As eldest son and heir, Darcy could not afford rumors as to his fitness. Fear of the school discovering his late night wandering had led to Darcy being tutored at home when he ought to have attended public school. Darcy had determined, until meeting Ms. Elizabeth Bennet, that he wouldn't marry not for love but for convenience. A wife who was fonder of his estate and income would not trouble herself with his formality.

But then, Darcy, idiot Darcy, had fallen in love.

"Consider it, that is all I ask, sir."

Darcy nodded. He would consider it. He had considered it. But each time he weighed the risks, he returned to the same conclusion. He could not bear to lose Elizabeth's faith in him. He resolved to himself once again to do all in his power to make her happy.

The candle sat heavy in his hand. Almost as heavy as his exhaustion and the weight of his secrets.

"I must, to bed."

Mr. James bowed. "I will stay awhile, out here, in case…"

Darcy nodded. Fortunately, he had not wandered from his bed since returning to Pemberley with his new bride.

Maybe God answers prayers, and Elizabeth had cured him. He could only hope.

James waved Darcy to his door, and Darcy stepped inside his room, closing it behind, and plodding to his cold and empty bed.

**Thanks for Reading!**

Hope you're enjoying this. If so, I'll post the redacted Chapter 3 here ASAP if you're interested. The unredacted version is up on my site already. Any and all feedback is appreciated.

Best,

V


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Here's the redacted version of Chapter 3. As I said before, **towards the end of the chapter, we get some pretty steamy content. I used elipses (...) to show where there was missing content. You can read the unredacted version on my website, violetkingauthor DOT com with a free membership.** I'm also a couple of chapters ahead there. Either way you read though, I hope you enjoy this story!

**Note, this is the unedited first draft. **

**Chapter 3**

Darcy slipped away after midnight. Elizabeth, not wanting to face his excuses, pretended to sleep until he had left. She dozed a while after, her mind spinning, unable to find a solution to her and Fitzwilliam's… problem.

If she were at home, she'd sneak into Jane's bed and whisper her worries to her sister in the darkness.

Rain pattered against the eaves. Slow and steady. The sound would normally lull her to sleep, but she couldn't sleep.

If she were home, she would ask Jane.

Elizabeth was too upset to sleep. She pulled her morning dress from the armoire and tied it about her waist, slipped into her house shoes, she took the candle from her nightstand.

It was late, but she could visit the library for a sheet of foolscap and a quill. Yes, it would be sensible to write her letter in the morning, but her worries were too private for the day.

_Dearest Jane,_

_How is it we have been parted for less than a month? It feels an eternity!_

_Do not be mistaken. Fitzwilliam and I enjoy a most wonderful accord. We are barely parted in the daylight hours,_

_I must admit, my dearest and closest sister and friend, I find all aspects of our union most enjoyable. My husband is a handsome man, and kind. Fitzwilliam's touch…_

How could she express how strongly he affected her? How much she wanted to explore, and how fearful she was of disappointing him, either through too much or too little interest? Such things were private.

_You understand, having shared nights of bliss with your husband._

_My face is hot and red as I write these next words, but I have no one else to ask._

_Our parents did not share a bedroom, nor did they much occupy themselves with each other during the day. I vowed to marry for love to spare myself such coldness. Passion is fleeting, but love consumes. Or so I imagine._

_I fear there is no easy way to ask this question. I shall be plain. Does Charles-._

Elizabeth's fingers shook, spilling a teardrop of ink over Mr. Bingley's name.

After fulfilling your marital duties, does Charles stay the night?

The words whispered in her mind, but her hand froze. She could not write out such a question. Perhaps of Jane were there in person, and they were whispering side-by-side in the darkness, Elizabeth might have had the courage to finish. But even by the dim candlelight, seeing her concerns penned in dark, sweeping ink—No! She could write another word.

What if someone intercepted their correspondence? What if Miss Caroline Bingley were visiting, and she came upon Elizabeth's words?

Elizabeth crumpled the letter and shoved it into the inside pocket of her nightdress. Coals glowed in the library fireplace, ready to be stoked to a blaze in the morning. Elizabeth crossed the room, took the fire poker and stabbed the banked coals until the licks of flame sputtered. She tossed the letter inside, watching as the foolscap burned to ash.

Perhaps she could invite Jane to Pemberley for a visit in the spring? Or maybe they could meet in town for the season?

No, Elizabeth could not wait so long for an answer.

She yawned.

Maybe the issue was Darcy's sense of formality. Love had softened its edges, but at his core, he was the same man.

Perhaps her concerns were unreasonable?

Perhaps, if she ceased encouraging him to stay, he might fall asleep in her arms.

Thump!

Elizabeth whirled to face the noise. She had shut the library door, and now, the knob turned in stuttering motions as someone pulled it open.

Elizabeth's heart pounded. She grabbed the fireplace poker. "Who's there?"

The shuffle of slippers. Elizabeth lifted the candle she'd placed at the edge of the fireplace stones. A man, wearing only a shirt and longdrawers, stepped inside.

As he came closer, Elizabeth, recognized her husband and let go of the poker, allowing it to rest back in its stand.

"Fitzwilliam?"

He held a candle, but it was unlit. Had he walked here in the dark?

Perhaps he also could not sleep. It was odd for him to wander the chill halls in a state of half undress. Odder still to do so without a candle or working candle.

Elizabeth crossed the room towards him. "Fitzwilliam?" She said a bit louder. Perhaps he had not heard her.

Fitzwilliam walked steadily from the door towards a bookshelf. Stopping, he held out his free hand and turned, his fingers brushing across the spines of the books. He moved out of the glow of Elizabeth candle. Even squinting, the titles would be difficult to read.

Elizabeth took up her candle and walked to join him at the shelf. Why wouldn't he acknowledge her?

"Will?" Elizabeth ventured. Fitzwilliam hated that nickname, and would normally turn to her, glaring, lips down-turned, and say he preferred Fitz.

Fitzwilliam said nothing.

Was he ill? His formality had softened with marriage, but he acknowledged her, often kissing her knuckles with a whispered, "Mrs. Darcy."

"Had you wished to read?" Elizabeth asked. She stood beside him, their arms almost touching.

"Yes," Fitzwilliam said. His voice was soft and slow as though he was less speaking and more breathing out sounds in a sigh. His eyes were open, his gaze fixed ahead, not on his fingers which brushed over the spines.

Elizabeth held the candle to the books: a thin volume without a spine, a selection of poems, a larger volume of Shakespeare, and a volume of Greek plays.

Fitzwilliam had not before expressed interest in plays or poetry, though looking over his shelves, there was an extensive collection of older works.

Perhaps his mother's collection?

They stood together, shoulders touching. Elizabeth asked, "What are you looking for?"

"Lizzie?" His voice still had that odd, distant quality, at least acknowledged her.

"Yes. I'm here, Fitz."

"Do not want to hurt you." Darcy pulled at the books on the shelf.

"Of course not," Elizabeth said. Why would he think such? She has seen him at his most vulnerable, skin to skin, and he had never hurt her. If anything, he was so gentle with her, she feared he was holding himself back. Perhaps that is why he left every night. He feared revealing himself. But Elizabeth wanted her husband. All of him. "What makes you believe you will hurt me?"

"Want to kiss you." Fitzwilliam was still facing the bookshelves, his fingers still scraping at the spines.

Elizabeth smiled. "A kiss will not hurt me, Fitz." She ducked beneath his arm and stood before him...as she looked up. "Do you feel me?" she asked, placing her hands on his hips and pressing herself close to him.

"Yes." His voice deepened.

Elizabeth looked up. So close, the scent of her husband: sweat, a touch of hair oil and a hint of their earlier union, filled her nose and heightened her desire.

Elizabeth's heart beat in her ears.

She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, loving the velvet heat of his skin sanded with the delicious roughness of his hair.

Usually, Fitzwilliam pulled her hands away, kissing her forehead and lips, pulling open her nightshirt and feathering kisses over her collarbone... She loved his control, but she also longed to take it. To make him want her as much as she wanted him. To be a wanton, for him.

Now, he pulled her closer...

Whatever spell had come over her husband, he desired her.

'Mr. Darcy in the library?' she mused. Who would have imagined the weight of darkness and literature would have spurred him to such passion?

...Yes, Elizabeth liked her late-night, improper husband.

Elizabeth had been right. For these first months of their marriage, Fitzwilliam had held himself back, bringing her pleasure and taking his own, only at the end breaching the veneer of control.

Was this why her husband left every night? He feared desiring her? If so, she had to show him how much she loved this. How much she wanted him...

Elizabeth said, "Take me, however you wish."

**Thank you for reading! **

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! This chapter was a blast to write! I'll have the next one up soon.

Best,

V


	4. Chapter 4

I'd meant to post this yesterday. Most of this chapter is redacted. The full chapter is up on my website violetkingauthor DOT com. I'm posting the next chapter here now too because there's almost nothing in this one I realized (outside of the redactions)...

**Chapter 4**

Darcy was dreaming. It was a wonderful dream. He had left his wife's rooms, fallen into bed, and found her in his arms. She pressed against him... and he kissed her. He nibbled her full, lower lip... Wanton. A mistress and a wife.

[REDACTED]

Darcy didn't know how long he lay, entangled in the dream arms of his wife. Eventually, the small sounds of someone moving. His bed was cold and hard. He kept his eyes shut. Better to fall asleep and wake in the morning than alone in the cold night.

Elizabeth, dream Elizabeth, agreed. She took his hand and said, "Come, Fitz. Let us return to bed."

"Hmm..."

His mouth was dry. Where was he? This was not his bedroom. Had he wandered again?

"Come, Fitz. We cannot have the servants find us together, here, like this."

Like what? The fog of his dream lifted. Darcy clung to it as he took his wife's hand. He kept his eyes shut, stumbling beside her in the darkness.

A dream. It must have been a dream.

**Thank you for reading!**

Seriously, that was mostly redacted. I'm posting the next chapter now. And Chapters 5-6 are going up on my site today. Book is live tomorrow :D

V


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, this chapter is much more lightly redacted than the last. As always, this is the unedited first draft. If you want to read the full, unredacted version, for free, grab a FREE membership on my website violetkingauthor DOT com.

**Chapter 5**

Elizabeth said, "Let us return to bed," and agreeably, Fitzwilliam stood and took a step towards the fireplace. Elizabeth scrambled to pull up his long drawers, which remained trapped about his ankles, so he did not trip. Then, hooking his arm around hers, she turned him towards the library door.

Fitzwilliam seemed somewhere between waking and dreaming. As they moved, Elizabeth could not help but wonder at her husband's state. Could he have been asleep through their entire encounter?

But Fitzwilliam had recognized her. He had called her name and mapped her body with his hands, tongue, and teeth. How could he have taken her so thoroughly without waking?

Elizabeth opened the door to his rooms and, candle in hand, guided him to his bed. "Go to sleep, Fitzwilliam," she said, pulling back the duvet.

Her husband sat, swinging his legs up onto the bed and burrowing his feet beneath the cover while leaning back on the pillow. Elizabeth pulled the blanket over him, and he sighed. " I suppose I wandered off again. Am I still dreaming, Lizzie?"

Elizabeth leaned over and pressed her lips to his. They kissed. He touched her cheek as his tongue teased at her lips. She let him in, perching on the edge of the bed as the kiss deepened.

What should she do? If she stayed the night, and he remembered, would he still want her? The things one wished in dreams were not always desired in the conscious mind. She pulled away from him.

Elizabeth asked, "What makes you believe you are dreaming?"

"Lizzie would never tolerate such things."

Elizabeth flinched. "What is she liked them?"

"She is my wife, not a mistress."

Elizabeth skin went cold. Had Fitzwilliam a mistress? Perhaps. Young men often did. Beautiful, enchanting women who fulfilled their every whim. A wife and a mistress were very different women. One revered in the light, the other defiled to the darkness.

Would Fitzwilliam be disgusted with her if he knew what happened between them while he was… wandering? Sleeping? Or perhaps he spoke now in jest.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask, but could not find the courage. She held his hand as his breath evened in his face slackened to full sleep.

Pressing final kiss to Fitzwilliam's forehead, Elizabeth pulled the cover up to his neck and left. Tomorrow, she would learn more of his late-night wanderings. Her dreaming husband had excited and satisfied her. But could he accept himself and her when awake?

The thought occupied Elizabeth as she returned to her bed and into her dreams.

**Thank you for reading!**

This chapter wasn't redacted at all (I think). Hope you enjoyed it!

V


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry about the delay!** The book is live, and I'll be posting chapters here 1-2/day. I really meant to post two chapters yesterday, but my day got out of hand! Here's Chapter 6. Again, this is the redacted version. If you want the unredacted version, check out my FREE website membership club at VioletKingAuthor DOT com! And remember, to get the FREE membership, you have to verify your email when you sign up. The email comes from Wordpress. If it's not in your inbox, check SPAM. They sometimes end up there.

**Chapter 6**

Darcy woke, midmorning, alone in his bed. A bruise purpled his left shoulder, and his right shoulder blade stung as though it had been scratched. The bruise was easily explained. He knocked into things while sleeping. What was more remarkable is that he did not injure himself more in his wandering.

Mostly he stayed to the house, and his valet or one of the servants would order him back to bed, or dependent on how far he had strayed, lead him to his room and gently guide him into the bed.

Memories rose like wisps of smoke from a sputtering candle. Lizzie writhed beneath him He buried himself in her as she rutted against him. Sweating, groaning, unbridled lust. Then after, a soft press of lips to his forehead.

Had Lizzie found him walking while asleep? If so, had she witnessed his dream? Had he… Forced himself upon her?

Darcy felt ill.

No, if he had made an unwanted advance, Lizzie would have fought him to her last. He would have awakened and somehow made amends. More likely he had escaped his rooms, wandered about the keep for some time, and then returned, sated by a dark, imagined passion.

Perhaps he ought to bolt his door from the outside tonight?

Darcy went to his mirror to observe his back. Four ragged, shallow cuts. A thin scab ran over the deepest, while the others were pink and raised in the morning light. He had imagined his wife's fingernails over his back in the throes of passion, and these marks could have come from such a source.

No. It had to have been something else. Perhaps the plasterwork? Or maybe he had slipped and fell in an odd position. Even walking, his slumbers ran deep. It was why has so afraid of harming his wife. He did not know what he did while asleep. His dreams were so vivid, he imagined them real. It was a form of madness. One that might overcome him at any time.

It was good fortune his father had not sent him to an asylum for treatment.

Darcy shook his head. He was not mad. It was an eccentricity. One that would fade again once he had settled into his home and married life.

Though it was morning, Darcy rang for a hip bath and, after it was brought, he disrobed, and slipped into the steaming water. Memories Elizabeth's scent, a mix of lavender and satisfaction, haunted him

What had happened last night?

What if it was as he imagined, and she had – – wanted this? Wanted him? His cock in her mouth, her fingers pinching his hips. He stood, and the warm water sluiced down from his waist. Were his hips bruised?

Maybe... [REDACTED.]

When the bath cooled, Darcy dressed for breakfast.

It was half-eleven, and Elizabeth would have eaten and left for one of her long, morning rambles about Pemberley's lands. The day was clear, bright, and chill with a dusting of snow. The sort of morning Lizzie most enjoyed spending outside. If he had woken earlier, he might have joined her. As it was, he would dine alone unless his sister awakened early.

Darcy arrived at breakfast nook, his newspaper ironed and folded at his seat for his perusal. He glanced at the words, but could not focus.

Darcy gave a start when a footman announced his wife. Thinking of the previous night, his face heated. He glanced down at the paper, though he could not parse the text.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said.

Darcy looked up. She was smiling at least. And a bit flushed? Embarrassed or merely warmed from her morning exertions. She wore a light blue patterned frock for walking. It highlighted the deep brown of her eyes. Her hair was styled simply, pulled up and pinned with curls framing her face.

Elizabeth crossed the room to him into both of his hands. "You look… Very well this morning."

Her eyes glittered, and her lips twitched. Was she laughing? At him, herself, or simply taking joy in the morning.

Or was it something more scandalous?

Had she guided him to bed last night? If so, how much of his improper desires had she witnessed?

Elizabeth took the chair at Darcy's right. He set the newspaper aside. "Are you well?" he ventured.

"Very well," Elizabeth flashed him another dazzling smile.

"Did you finish your morning walk early?" Such trifling conversation, considering the questions weighing on Darcy's mind.

She shook her head. "I was a bit tired, from last night's... exertions."

Did she mean their bed play or after? Darcy nodded. "I, as well."

"I…umm...Was also restless, after you left. And… It seems – –."

Elizabeth shifted to face him. The servants arrived carrying a tray with two mugs of steaming chocolate and a plate with buttered toast with a poached egg. When they had left, Elizabeth took her spoon and tapped at shell of the egg.

Darcy focused his gaze on his own half eaten toast and said, "You saw me? Last night?"

Elizabeth nodded. She asked, "What do you remember?"

[REDACTED.]

Darcy bit his toast. If he thought his wife willing, he would... [REDACTED.] She was his wife, and one he wanted most improperly.

Elizabeth tapped the eggshell again. Did her hand shake?

The observation was a splash of cold water on his face. How much had Darcy shamed himself? Darcy took a slow breath, reining in his need. He would have to ask valet bolt his room from the outside.

If Darcy had embarrassed her, he could at least spare her further mortification by claiming he remembered nothing. Whatever he might have dreamed, he could not have come to any culmination without her participation.

Yes, he managed some complexity of action while asleep. Once, he had walked to the stables and brushed out the coat of his favorite gelding, Star until a stable hand woke and sent him back to the house. But the gelding had known him, and adored being brushed, so the dream had matched well enough with reality that Star had not startled and woken him.

What he had imagined with his wife was far from the ordinary. He might, at most, have kissed her sloppily and rutted against her. Embarrassing in a hallway, but nothing untoward.

"Fitzwilliam?"

"You kissed my forehead," Darcy said quickly. "I remember, you walked me to bed and kissed my forehead." His forehead and his lips. But the forehead seemed the least objectionable. Not that any of her kisses had been objectionable. He welcomed all of them. Even the ones he must have only dreamed.

"Oh, yes. Well…. So you were asleep then?" Elizabeth scooped another bite of egg with the tip of her spoon and ate it.

"I have wandered sometimes when sleeping since I was a child," Darcy confessed.

"Your eyes were open when... I found you. And you spoke with me."

"I hope I said nothing objectionable," Darcy chewed his toast.

"You truly don't remember?"

"Did she wish him to remember? Darcy stole a glance at his wife. She had laid her spoon on the plate beside her egg and reached for the chocolate. Her hands were still now, and she seemed, to any observing, a lady enjoying her morning meal. She glanced over at him, her eyes dark and inviting.

Perhaps she did wish him to remember?

Darcy opened his mouth and shut it again as the footmen entered and announced. "Miss Georgiana."

The left side of the footman's lips quirked as the young woman hustled into the room.

To the devil with my sister! Guilt followed the thought. Georgiana was not at fault for her timing.

Georgiana nodded at the footman and said, "Thank you, Mr. Marcus," she said, giving him a brief nod and, in a spin of skirts, crossed the room to sit opposite Darcy and his wife. "I have the most wonderful news!"

Georgiana's gaze fell on the second mug of chocolate, which Elizabeth pushed towards her with an apologetic glance at her husband. Not the Darcy much liked chocolate. He preferred a cool glass of water in the morning, a habit that both amused and appalled his wife, especially in winter.

Elizabeth said, "Well, do not be shy, Georgie. Tell us!"

"Ida Williams will play at Mrs. Dawson's musicale in a fortnight. She studied in London with Johann Baptist Cramer and he sent her a new score! I know I am not yet out, but Miss Dawson is a friend, and it can hardly be disreputable for me to attend, if I am accompanying my brother and his wife to visit a friend." Georgiana looked up, wide-eyed and pleading.

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. "I see no trouble in it, provided your brother is amenable."

Darcy would have preferred not to have a sister-public so soon, before she was come out, but a visit to a friend and a small musical gathering was close enough to propriety, considering this was Derbyshire and not London.

Darcy nodded, and Georgiana let out a squeal of delight, leaping up from her chair and running around the table to throw her arms around his shoulders. He winced as she leaned on his bruised shoulder.

Elizabeth, head cocked, asked, "Fitzwilliam?"

"I must have jarred it yesterday."

Of course Georgiana knew of his late-night, somnolent excursions, but Darcy did not wish to call further attention to what may or may not have happened between him and his wife the previous evening.

Not they had the opportunity to speak now. Georgiana claimed ownership of Elizabeth after breakfast, insisting Elizabeth would know which dress would be both proper and fetching for a young girl before her coming out. Elizabeth smiled indulgently and agreed to try her best.

Darcy watched the pair chatter, noting his wife's relaxation as the conversation continued. Perhaps it was for the best Georgiana had interrupted he and Elizabeth. If nothing else, his sister's arrival had kept him from further mortifying his wife and himself.

Tonight, he would insist his valet bolt the bedroom door from the outside. This way, if Darcy wandered, he would be constrained to his own rooms.

**Thank you for reading!**

My website is a few chapters ahead and unredacted, so if you want to keep reading, head there and grab a free membership. If you have any issues getting it to work, email me at violetkingauthor AT gmail DOT com and I'll do everything I can to help. But check your SPAM folder first.

Best,

V


	7. Chapter 7

Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! If you want to read the unredacted version, visit my website and get a FREE membership: VioletKingAuthor DOT com. I've taken off the confirmed opt-in for the membership club because people seemed to be having trouble with it so don't worry about checking your email for the link.

**Chapter 7**

Before marrying Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth had prided herself a fine judge of character and intentions. She had made a critical error in judging her husband initially, and it spurred her to focus attention on his habits, moods, and expressions as their engagement and marriage unfolded.

Because she made such dedicated study her husband, she recognized first, he had lied about his memory of last night's activities and second, it embarrassed the blazes out of him.

Which created quite the conundrum as Elizabeth wished to explore more of the side of her husband. A man who took what he wanted while wringing pleasure from her at every assertion of his desire.

Elizabeth spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon with Georgiana, or Georgie as she preferred to be addressed by family and close friends. Mrs. Bennet had made each of her daughters available for marriage soon into their fifteenth year, counting both on looser country strictures and a plethora of siblings to keep the girls from dishonoring themselves. But Georgiana was shy, had already been betrayed by a man she trusted, and was both blessed and cursed with a large dowry that would attract all manner of unsuitable prospects besides those with whom she might form a happy union.

Elizabeth understood with her husband in the girl's reticence to set aside the protections of childhood though she had recently celebrated her seventeenth birthday. The decision meant Georgiana's world was still, to a large degree, circumscribed, and Elizabeth sensed some envy on Georgiana's part of her friend, who was promised a London season this year.

After they finished choosing Georgiana's evening frock, Elizabeth and Georgiana walked together outside, arms linked, breath clouding the air ahead of them. Georgiana asked, "Lizzie, what is it like to be married?"

Elizabeth thought of her life with Fitzwilliam, her life here, and smiled. "Wonderful," she said.

"I have never seen Fitz so happy," Georgiana said. She sounded wistful.

Elizabeth said, "When a marriage is for love, it brings a true, lasting happiness."

"My aunt says love grows from the familiarity of common habit."

Well that sounded like Lady Catherine.

Georgiana tightened her coat about her chest. "Common habit sounds deadly dull, if you ask me."

Elizabeth laughed. "I believe a marriage is strengthened by common habits and interests. The ability to speak openly of the heart." As Elizabeth spoke, she wondered at her and Fitzwilliam's marriage. They shared affection, habits, thoughts, and she knew in her bones he loved her, but there were still secrets. Fitzwilliam stole from her room every night. To hide what? His late-night wanderings or, more troubling, his true desires?

And Elizabeth too had been reluctant this morning to confront the situation. She feared how he would judge her, knowing how she had satisfied him with her mouth and how much she craved his roughness. His commands. His control.

And how much she longed to rob him of his.

When they were children, Lydia had discovered a folio hidden in her father's study with drawings of men and women, nude and assuming unusual positions for coupling. Lydia had been young, perhaps six years of age, and images had made her and Kitty roar with laughter. Elizabeth, a bit older, recognized something illicit in these pages, and had taken the book away from her sister's, returning it to its hiding place and forbidding her younger sisters to look at them again.

But Elizabeth had looked... and remembered.

[REDACTED].

Thankfully, the chill air could be blamed for the flush upon Elizabeth's cheeks. Drawing herself back to the conversation, she said, "Love makes all things possible."

But did it? Would love be enough to bridge the chasm of silence between her and her husband about their hidden desires?

**Thank you for reading!**

Next chapter will be up soon. There's more on my site also.

V


	8. Chapter 8

Hi everyone! Here's the next chapter. I've noticed some folks have noted in reviews I can post my unredacted book under an M rating. That does seem to be the case, but I'm not comfortable posting explicit content on what is essentially an open forum and wholly outside of my control. I haven't done that before and I won't now. But the entire story is free with the free membership on my site VioletKingAuthor DOT com, unredacted, so just hop over there and enjoy!

**Chapter 8**

Darcy's ardor had not cooled enough for him to trust himself by their evening meal. It was no crime to want one's wife, except a surfeit of ardor and risked either turning her from him, or sapping them both of the vitality needed to maintain a long-term union. What if he frightened her? What if, upon her quickening, his unbridled passion caused their child harm?

Darcy loved his wife, and he could not risk his marriage and future for a lust-addled fantasy.

Then there was Georgiana. If he had stumbled upon his sister, mistaking her for his wife...

Darcy needed to reassert his control.

Pleading a headache, Darcy had the servants bring dinner to his rooms. He ate, flipped through a volume on the subject of agriculture, which as master of Pemberley, he was obligated to keep abreast of, and, regretting his own pale attempts at virtue, went early to bed.

Darcy's mind wandered. Memories of fingering his wife's wet heat, the desire to dip his tongue between her womanly folds, to suck pleasure from the hard knot at her mound, overcame him.

Heart pounding, Darcy stood, walked to the door and tested the bolt. The door rattled in its frame.

Locked.

Good.

Darcy returned to his bed, snuffed the candle and lay back on his pillows. His legs parted, and he rested his fingers on his thigh. His cock, though not fully engorged, lay heavy against him. He considered taking himself in hand and finishing the business. Though it was not spoken of, a man sometimes gave himself this form of release to clear his thoughts. As Darcy brushed his fingers over his bollucks, he remembered Elizabeth's breasts pressed into his chest, her nails digging into his shoulders. His cock thickened.

Darcy squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe he could steal into his wife's rooms, pretend the headache had passed, and exercise his marital prerogatives. But in the state of mind, he would not take her gently. The book his father had left on his night table about a husband's duties, had only hinted at the act. It was imperative he not frighten or overburden his wife. This required a rigid check on his most sinful thoughts. Such depravity could be enjoyed with a mistress or a prostitute, but a man must treat his wife with honor and respect for her purity.

Unless…?

Before Georgiana's sudden arrival at their morning meal, Elizabeth glanced over at him, her dark eyes wide and suffused with interest more lustful than the guide to his marital duties had intimated.

What if he had not dreamed the entire encounter? What if the marks on his shoulder were as he remembered, evidence of his Elizabeth's greater than wifely lust?

[REDACTED...steamy but not story essential]

**Thanks for reading!**

Best,  
V


	9. Chapter 9

Hey all! Here's chapter 9! Enjoy :D

**Chapter 9**

Elizabeth and Georgiana shared a pleasant dinner. Elizabeth did her best to put forth a façade of good cheer, not wishing to impose her worries on the young girl.

As they were finishing their final course, Elizabeth said, "I am not certain if you are aware, and I do not wish to trouble you, but last night, I found your brother walking about, and he did not seem himself…"

Georgiana smiled, taking an orange slice and popping it into her mouth. "I am surprised Fitz has not told you, or you do not discover it for yourself earlier. He must be content in his wedded state. My brother can be active in his sleep."

"So he was asleep!"

Georgiana nodded.

"But Fitzwilliam could do complex things one would not expect of a man asleep. I mean, he was in the library, perusing the volumes." Elizabeth would not mention the rest of it. "It was as though he was looking for something."

Georgiana laughed. "He came to my room once. I woke, and he was half under my bed, rifling around. He was fortunate he did not disturb the chamber pot. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he had misplaced his slippers. When I told him to return to his own bed, he crawled out, left, and awoke the next morning, none the wiser."

Elizabeth's stomach sank. "Fitz remembered nothing?"

"He had a headache from where he had hit his head against the leg of the bed, but…" She shrugged. "Perhaps he remembered and was embarrassed. I was seven, and Fitz was sixteen. This is why my parents did not send him to school until university when he could stay in our London house."

Elizabeth felt a stab of sympathy for her husband as a young man. To be sent away for school was upsetting enough, but worse when the reason something outside of one's control. Perhaps it was why Fitzwilliam was so circumspect in his waking actions even in his marriage bed.

Georgiana said, "I suspect it embarrasses him. Fitz did not seem the slightest bit ill this morning, and he is not prone to headaches, unless he hurt himself last night?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "It did not seem so?"

"If he suspected he embarrassed himself while asleep, he would not be comfortable admitting it. Or facing you."

Perhaps that was why Fitzwilliam taken his breakfast late. Normally, he met her in the morning and then joined her morning walk. Elizabeth asked, "Are you certain he remembers nothing of his ramblings?"

"I do not know," Georgiana said. "Our parents had a bolt put on the outside of his door when he was young, and they had him placed the candles outside his rooms for fear he might set himself ablaze. But there is nothing to be afraid of. My brother is quite healthy of mind and body. He wanders when he has not taken care to ensure his own rest. I suspect that is another reason he kept himself away this evening."

Perhaps it was. Darcy must be lacking sufficient sleep, engaging in bedroom dalliances slipping out of the dead of night, and then awakening early to join Elizabeth for breakfast and her morning walk.

Elizabeth and Georgiana played a few rounds of cards in the drawing room, and Georgiana practiced a new piece on the pianoforte she had been learning. After, both returned to their separate rooms.

Thankfully, Georgiana was in a different wing from Elizabeth and her husband. Elizabeth loved her new sister, but she did not wish the young woman to have any inkling of Elizabeth slowly forming a plan to waylay Fitzwilliam while sleeping and explore more of his secret passions.

The first step was to unbolt her husband's door.

**Thank you for reading!** This chapter had no steamy content and is as is. If you are having issues getting into my site, just drop me a line via PM or at violetkingauthor AT gmail DOT com and I'll get things sorted out.

Best,  
V


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry this is slow! Enjoy!

**Chapter 10**

Darcy rose, wanting his wife. The room and his own skin had sharpened to the odd focus of dreams as he placed his feet on the floor and toed around for his slippers. He would find her. He stood, and within moments he was at the door to his room. Turning the knob, it swung open.

Definitely a dream, and his fear eased as he stepped into the hall. Elizabeth rooms were to his left.

In the way of dreams, moonlight shone into the hallway, though the previous evening, the moon had only been a quarter full. Three steps down the hall, and Elizabeth was there in only her nightrail...

[REDACTED.]

Darcy reached for her, and Elizabeth stepped into his arms, all soft curves and the scent of desire. He touched her without restraint...

[REDACTED.]

"Fitzwilliam," she breath, the tickle of her breath hot against his jaw. "Let us go to bed."

"No," Darcy insisted.

[REDACTED...a significant amount.]

Was he dreaming?

"Fitz?" Elizabeth asked, her voice hesitant. She ran fingers over his temple, pushing back sweat damp tufts of hair.

Darcy breathed out.

Elizabeth said, "It is just a dream. Come, let us return to your bed."

Just a dream, she said. But as she rearranged his long drawers and slipped her arm around his waist, he opened his eyes and saw the dim outline of the hallway, no moonlight, just a candle left in its stand three feet from where she held him.

Darcy had to have been asleep. But this was too vivid and too mundane for a dream. He was chilly, sticky, and he stumbled, walking in the semi-darkness. He could not be dreaming.

But Darcy had checked the bolt on his door. They had locked it. How had he gotten out of his rooms?

Had someone unlocked it?

Had his wife?

Darcy let Elizabeth lead him to his room. She told him to sit, and he did. Gently, she pulled his slippers off and pushed him back on his pillow. She kissed him, on the forehead and lips.

Then she placed the duvet to his chest, blew out the candle, and left.

As Darcy lay in the darkness, he heard the scratch and click of the bolt, sliding and falling into place.

Elizabeth had unlocked it. The minx!

Darcy would have been furious if he was not so delighted. Elizabeth wanted him. His dream wife was his wife in truth.

Why had not she told him? If she had but shared her desires, he would have come to her bed and stayed. But perhaps she too had been afraid? Her interest not the hesitant reaction of a woman as virtuous as the guides suggested he expect of a wife.

Thank heaven.

As Darcy's eyes fell shut, he planned. The next time he enjoyed his wife's full attentions, it would, no longer, be a dream.

**Thank you for reading!**

If you want to read the redacted parts, just check it out on my website VioletKingAuthor DOT com. I'm also working on a sweet romance which I'll start posting soon! And another steamy is in the wings.

Best,

V


	11. Chapter 11

Next Chapter! Enjoy :)

**Chapter 11**

After Fitzwilliam had released and the shock of Elizabeth's own passions eased enough for her to breathe, she noted a change in her husband. He had seemed aware. A moment of stark terror overcame her, and all of her muscles clenched as her heart pounded. "Fitz?"

He sighed against her skin.

"It is just a dream," Elizabeth reassured herself and him. "Come, let us return to bed."

Fitzwilliam allowed her to right his drawers and slip her hand around his waist. The moment of awareness had thankfully passed. Perhaps he had awakened for a moment and then fallen back into slumber. She led, and Fitzwilliam followed, stumbling once and then righting himself.

If Fitzwilliam had awakened, would he not have spoken to her? Elizabeth gently pushed him onto his bed, kissing his forehead and his lips before she pulled the cover to his chest. His eyes shut.

Asleep.

Thank heaven.

Elizabeth recognized the "dreams" they shared were neither proper nor virtuous. Since viewing the French postcards her father study, the act of copulation had become more intriguing than terrifying. The passion in those illustrations between a man and woman was not that of horses or sheep.

...

Dampening a cloth, Elizabeth wiped away the evidence of their union and drifted to sleep.

When Elizabeth woke, a joyful energy hummed through her, excitement mingled with the bone deep satisfaction. Tonight, when Fitzwilliam came to her bed, she would... But for now, bright sunlight filtered through the window, and Elizabeth yearned to turn her face to the sun and let it kiss her skin through the early spring breeze.

There was a joy to pleasure and pain mixed, something she wished to explore further if her husband, and his waking hours, was as amenable to debauchery as when he slept. Avoiding the breakfast nook for fear of an awkward meal with her husband, Elizabeth went to the kitchens to pick up a basket she'd asked a servant to have prepared.

But when she arrived in the kitchen, her husband was there, chatting with the cook.

"Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth asked in pure shock. He would join her sometimes for her morning walks, but never from the kitchens. Usually, he found her outside, often on horseback, and he would dismount and walk beside her, sometimes stealing a chaste kiss on the lips before taking her arm, careful to keep a modest distance between them though they were husband and wife.

"Fitzwilliam?"

"Mrs. Darcy," he said, smiling. He showed no sign of fatigue at their late-night dalliance, further evidence he had been asleep the entire time. Elizabeth ought to have felt relief, but instead came a stab of disappointment. He held a basket, larger than the one she'd requested.

"For our walk," he responded to her questioning glance. "Bread, apples, cheese, and some wine." On his arm hung a quilt. "I thought we might picnic near the folly, if you like."

"It is chilly for a picnic, is it not?" Elizabeth asked, but she smiled.

Darcy said, "We shall find ways to warm each other, will we not?"

The cook averted her gaze as a young maid handed Fitzwilliam a sack for his quilt.

Elizabeth said. "I suppose, if we must." Her face warmed. Foolish for her to act the blushing virgin, considering her actions the night before. But he did not know what had happened between them. He saw his wife, not a wanton.

Another stab of disappointment.

Elizabeth and her husband left together, arm in arm.

Even in the chill of early spring, the grounds mesmerized Elizabeth. Short, coniferous bushes added a splash of green to the monochrome palette of stone with ice glinting along the fountain's floors. Though most trees were bare, silvery bark mingled with brown, fingers spread, some had begun to bud. How slowly nature seem to move, and then, in one sunburst, life flourished again.

Perhaps it was the chill breeze, ruffling the tied strings of Elizabeth's bonnet and buffeting her cheeks, or perhaps it was her husband's scent, but her face flushed as they walked. Had he washed last night from his skin, or did it linger?

"Beautiful morning," Elizabeth remarked.

Every morning had a different character. One could say the same of her marriage. The contours were the same, but each day held new mysteries to unravel. New things to learn about her husband and herself. And, soon by the grace of God, she would have a child. A son or a daughter with his long bones, dark hair and heart stuttering smile, the one he shared only with those he loved.

Fitzwilliam let her towards one of the bare, silvery trees, turning her so her back was pressed against it.

Memories of the previous evening heated Elizabeth's cheeks, and she was grateful for the wind. She ran her tongue between her lips.

Fitzwilliam asked, "How would you like me to kiss you?"

Elizabeth shivered, not with cold but anticipation. "However you wish," she said, looking up at him through her lashes.

...

But memories of the last two nights sharpened her desire, and she could not care about the spring chill. She wanted to unbutton her coat and feel his cool fingers beneath her bodice. She wanted him to lift her skirt as though she was a maid and he, a footman, taking their pleasure where they hoped no one would see.

Fitzwilliam pressed his lips to hers, lips closed. Proper.

Of course. Fitzwilliam did not remember. But then he kissed her again, harder, his lips parting and tongue teasing hers. Perhaps his mind did not remember, but his body did. Elizabeth parted her lips, welcoming him, slipping her hands about his waist and pulling him closer...

Perhaps she could coax his body?

Fitzwilliam feathered kisses over her cheek, to her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and teasing it...

They were in plain view of the house, though at enough distance they would appear the size of two dolls to anyone watching.

Blast the thick coat and heavy clothes! She wanted him, skin to skin.

Fitzwilliam breathed in sharply and took a step back. "Come along." He held out his arm, and Elizabeth, flustered and wanting him, linked hers with his and they walked again.

Fitzwilliam pointed at a small, grayish brown bird twittering in the tree had of them. Elizabeth nodded, but she could not comprehend a word he had said. Waking, Fitzwilliam had kissed her with the same desperation of his sleeping desire. But why had he pulled away? Was he disgusted with her passion?

Elizabeth breathed the cool spring air.

Fitzwilliam pulled her closer, leaning in and murmuring in her ear, "You look flushed. Are you well?"

Elizabeth's face flamed. She said, "Very well, thank you."

"I remember when I first witnessed you flushed from exercise. You had come to see to your sister Jane. Your hems were soggy, and the wind had disturbed your curls, but it was your skin, flush with emotion and activity that drew me. That in your eyes. Dark with secrets. Have you any secret wishes?"

Elizabeth glanced over at him, but he looked away, towards the budding trees. She forced a smile. "If I shared them, they would no longer be secret, would they?"

"I suppose not."

They walked together a while longer, him murmuring things against her ear. He unlinked his arm from hers to slip it around her hips.

...

When they arrived the folly, Fitzwilliam spread the blanket and placed the basket at the edge. They sat. The air had warmed, not enough for either to shed their coats but enough for Elizabeth to pull her hands free of her gloves. Her husband did the same, and their fingers twined about each other.

...

Elizabeth reached into the basket and took out an apple. She handed one to her husband and ate the other herself. Darcy took a bite, chewed, and placed the apple on the edge of the blanket. He lay back, and loosening his cravat, shut his eyes.

Elizabeth waited for his breath to even before laying down beside him. When she was certain she slept, she rolled over, placing her arm over him.

Did Fitzwilliam sleepwalk in the day? If so, perhaps they might engage in some debauchery?

Elizabeth berated herself. She was a wanton, seeking to molest her husband in broad daylight. The thought made her heart race. She curled up around him, telling herself the day was chilly and he would appreciate her warmth.

"Lizzie," he murmured.

Elizabeth said, "Fitz, you are dreaming."

...

They kissed, tongue on tongue, Elizabeth's breasts crushed in her stays and against him. Though the breeze was cold, she did not care because the heat inside of her burned...

No matter. They could do it properly tonight. For now, she wished she wished to have him improperly. She wished him unfettered by expectations. And herself the same.

...

"Darling, lay back. She pushed on his shoulder, and he rolled onto his back... Elizabeth wanted to touch him, to run her fingers through the thick fur of his chest. She wanted to taste him and rub herself on every part of his body.

What if Fitzwilliam woke with her atop him? What if someone saw them?

Both fears should have discouraged her wantonness, but her desire grew. He was her husband and she his wife. She need only fear ruination in his eyes. And she knew, from tonight's experience, that he did not wake easily from his slumber. It was why he was so well rested and she so tired.

...

Fitzwilliam's eyes opened wide.

Elizabeth gasped as she sheathed herself again. "It is just a dream," she said.

But Fitzwilliam, his syllables clipped and powerful, said, "No, my wife, this is not."

**Thank you for reading!**

You'll note I've moved to the ... for the redactions in this chapter. I thought it would be easier to read. You can read the full, unredacted draft form on my website: VioletKingAuthor DOT com.

Best,

V


	12. Chapter 12

Here's the last chapter and epilogue! Chapter 12 is heavily redacted, but the whole thing is on my site: VioletKingAuthor DOT com. To get the free membership, click on the menu item titled: Get Your Free Membership. Enjoy!

**Chapter 12**

It was all Darcy could do to pretend sleep when his wife...asked him to roll onto his back.

Fitzwilliam did as he was told, intrigued to discover what she would do next. He had never been awake for the initiation of their late-night unions. Only the release and aftermath.

But Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy truly was a wanton, and clever one, much to her husband's delight.

He let her set the pace, rocking in time, his fingers entwined. His eyes flew open, wanting to look. Her face was flushed and sweat glistened on her brow and perfect bosom, still bound by her dress and stays even as her skirts hid their union. Her wet heat pulsed around him.

"It is just a dream," Elizabeth murmured, but Darcy could not hold the ruse any longer.

"No, wife, it is not." Darcy sat up, pulling her into an embrace.

She gasped. "Fitz!"

The position was awkward, and Elizabeth slipped off of him.

"Come back," Darcy said.

Elizabeth squirmed, settling herself again as he attempted to spread his, but his trousers were caught above his knees. Blast them!

"I can explain – –."

"I understand well enough."

"You were awake!"

Darcy pushed up inside of her, the thrust weak but she shivered around him, and his pleasure grew. He smiled, "It hardly seems fair you should have all the fun."

"I did not wish you to think me wanton."

"I like you wanton." Now if only she would stop talking. He was close, too close. He pulled her closer, pressing her mouth to his. As much as he wanted to release inside of her, he wanted to feel her release first. Knowing now he need not hold back, he bit her lower lip. She gasped and clenched.

He ran his tongue over where he had bit, tasting a hint of salt. "You like that," he said.

"Yes," Elizabeth's eyes were dark, filled with desire and lust. Everything he had wanted in his dreams lay before him.

"Use me," Darcy said. "I want to feel how much you want me."

She rose and fell on him again, her hips moving faster and faster. He kissed her, hard; his desire crested and she let out a long moan, her insides pulsing, drawing his release soon after. She fell against him, and he leaned back onto the blanket, gasping against her neck. He softened inside of her, not wanting this moment to end.

"Fitz," she murmured against his neck.

"Next time," he said, the vision forming in his mind as he spoke. "I will tie to the bedposts and use you. It is only fair, considering have you have taken liberties with me."

Darcy felt her smile against his skin.

Elizabeth said, "As you wish, Mr. Darcy."

**Epilogue**

A month later, Annalise, Elizabeth's maid, smiled as she loosened Elizabeth stays. "I fear we shall need to let this dress out in the next month. Considering your condition..."

Her condition? It took Elizabeth a moment to understand. How long had been since her monthly courses? She had missed, one... no two of her monthly courses.

"I am with child!" A delighted smile rose to Elizabeth lips as she stared, wide-eyed into the mirror. This was the face of a soon-to-be mother.

"Is not surprising, considering how much time you and your husband spend in each other's company. I am sorry if I am too forward," Annalise added.

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. No, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam Darcy shared an energetic union. Fitzwilliam still walked sometimes in his sleep, but instead of leaving their bed, he pulled her close and… Loved her. Whether awake or asleep, sharing a meal or a bed, they loved each other. It was all Elizabeth had wanted, and now, she knew she had the love of shared habit and a shared heart.

And now, a child.

Elizabeth's mother had said it was better to keep such news to oneself until the third month had passed, but Elizabeth did not wish to hide another a secret between from her husband.

No secrets. And if Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy dared imply his wife's interest in him would wane as her belly grew, she would prove him deliciously wrong, both in his dreams and the warm light of day.

The End.

**Thank you for reading!** I'm working on two more books right now and will have new chapters up when I get a bit more written!


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